


Never Forget

by Salmon_I



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Loss, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_I/pseuds/Salmon_I
Summary: The night Kyle loses his first patient he’s twenty-two.  He spends the night getting drunk alone.  Not because there’s nobody else to get drunk with, but because he very much wants to be alone.  He’s smart enough to not try to drive, but halfway to his apartment, he sits down on the curb and dials his father’s number.“What’s up, Doctor Valenti?  Bit late for you to call.”  His father’s voice is teasing and light when he first picks up the call.“She’s dead.”“Kyle?”  His father is instantly concerned.“She’s dead.”  He repeats.“Who is dead, Kyle?”“Her name was Ally-Allison Whit-something.  I can’t… I tried to… and I couldn’t…”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Never Forget

Kyle’s grandfather dies when he’s seven. His father sits down and explains it to him when he comes home from school. He cries because he loves his grandfather, and he doesn’t understand completely. He’s never experienced loss or death before. He knows his grandfather isn’t around to babysit him anymore. He knows he’s not supposed to mention him too much to his grandmother, who he sometimes sees crying.

Children are resilient, though, and as the months pass he thinks of it less and less. By the time he’s seventeen he doesn’t recall much about the afternoons he used to spend with his grandfather. A flash here and there. He occasionally spots old pictures of them together in photobooks his mother keeps, but he doesn’t always remember the days they were taken.

* * *

The night Kyle loses his first patient he’s twenty-two. He spends the night getting drunk alone. Not because there’s nobody else to get drunk with, but because he very much wants to be alone. He’s smart enough to not try to drive, but halfway to his apartment, he sits down on the curb and dials his father’s number.

“What’s up, Doctor Valenti? Bit late for you to call.” His father’s voice is teasing and light when he first picks up the call.

“She’s dead.”

“Kyle?” His father is instantly concerned.

“She’s dead.” He repeats.

“Who is dead, Kyle?”

“Her name was Ally-Allison Whit-something. I can’t… I tried to… and I couldn’t…”

“How drunk are you right now?”

“I’m very drunk. Very, very drunk.” He lies back on the curb, not really caring how cold or dirty the pavement was. “And it’s not fair, not right - I didn’t… I tried, but maybe I didn’t try hard enough-”

“Not being able to save someone doesn’t mean you killed them, Kyle.”

He hasn’t cried yet, but he cries then. His father stays on the phone with him for hours afterward. Parts of that night are fuzzy from the drinking, but he remembers that.

* * *

  
  


Kyle is twenty-three when he loses his father. There’s a small part of him that thinks he should be used to loss, but he’s not. Every loss feels like the first loss. This time is the worse so far.

Some days his father seems to recognize him. Others his eyes sweep past him as if he’s not even there. Everything is happening so fast - it’s too fast. Kyle wants to slow time down, stretch it out. Just one more day. Just one more hour.

There’s also a part of him that recognizes that each day is harder and harder on his father, and he doesn’t want him in pain. Doesn’t want him to suffer. It’s a conflict within him, these two feelings. He has to let go, but he doesn’t want to.

“Handprint…” His father slurs out, eyes seeing him but not seeing him. “If you see the handprint…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He takes his father’s hand - not understanding but wanting to comfort him somehow.

“If you see the handprint, got to…” He closes his eyes for a minute, mumbles something he can’t quite understand. Some days it feels like he’s speaking another language. “Manes… Manes…”

“Okay, it’s okay.” The words feel useless on his tongue. Nothing is okay.

There’s anger among the pain, but who can he even turn that anger on? It’s all just chance. Circumstance. You can’t yell at luck.

“I’m here.”

“...protect you…” Jim whispers.

Kyle squeezes his hand. “You always have.” He assures him.

His father is gone within twenty-four hours of the conversation. Kyle knows that memory he’ll never forget.


End file.
